


Other Side of the Ocean

by PoisonHw



Series: French Sarcasm meets British Wit [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Same Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Don't you worry, F/M, Happy ending though, M/M, but i'm just saying, did i mention the angst, everything from the short sentences to the passive-agressive beginnings, mention of characters deaths, others are stupid and oblivious and stubborn despite being the important ship in the fic, some people in this fic are cute, they literally have the ninteenth century soulmate version of an online relationship i SWEAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonHw/pseuds/PoisonHw
Summary: Arno and Evie don't believe in soulmates. After all, they've never seen a soulmate situation end up with happiness.More than twenty years in their willingly repressed feelings, however, and the loneliness starts to become more intense.They crack.





	Other Side of the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> I might have a buttload of wips in my google doc right now BUT I had comments from adorable people saying we need more soulmates aus or asking me for more Arno/Evie.
> 
> SO HERE I AM, PROVIDING BOTH AT THE SAME TIME, BECAUSE I LIVE TO SERVE /AND/ BECAUSE YOU CAN PRY THIS SHIP FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS I WILL MAKE IT /LIVE/.  
> That was hard to write, I'll be honest. The soulmate part started as a normal "whatever happens on your skin appears on your soulmate's too" and then SOMEHOW the AU introduced new rules in the middle. It's alive, you guys.  
> (TW there's two /kinda/ suicidal thoughts in there, it's, like, 3 words each.)
> 
> Anyway if you wanna be in the mindset or something, I had The Last of The Real Ones playing softly in the background while writing this. (by Fall Out Boy) (yes, the entire time, on repeat)
> 
> This is not betaed and I'll correct possible mistakes later pls don't hate me! Hope y'all still enjoy :)
> 
> Characters and stuff belong to Ubisoft.

Arno doesn’t believe in soulmates. He never has, and never will, because he’s seen enough in his twenty plus years of life to decide that he doesn’t want anything to do with the concept whatsoever. For all the adults’ talk about the magic behind soulmates, the unbreakable bond and the intense love, his eight years-old self still has to watch as all of these don’t stop his mother from leaving the house, tears in her golden eyes. He doesn’t know why she goes away, only that she hasn’t looked at him once until the door slams behind her.

And he has to watch his father suffer the loss of the one he was supposed to be with forever. He has to listen to him cry himself to sleep at night, and pretend like he doesn’t see the dark circles under his eyes or the bottles under the table.

Young Arno is pretty sure that, if not for him, his father would have killed himself quite quickly. Which turns out to be a pointless thought when someone else does it for him; and as much as he mourns the loss of his only family, a part of him is glad that his dad’s soul is finally free.

Arno lives up to the clichés other countries have of French people. His adoptive father is a nice man who protects him and takes him under his wing, and his adoptive sister is a great partner to play with. Still, François de la Serre’s gentleness doesn’t stop him from shoving Arno in a rank he definitely did not belong in. As he grows older, he sees himself go from adoptive son to favourite servant, and as much as it pains him, there’s nothing he can do about it.

So he becomes bitter, hides his insecurities and anger behind carefully crafted sarcasm, and never tries to befriend anyone else. Instead of bottling everything inside, he takes up fighting and learns to destroy targets of a consistency that looks more and more like humans every time.

As a favourite, he has a lot of time on his hands, after all.

He doesn’t even cry or make a comment when he’s accused of committing murder, knowing full well that denying his role in François’ death wouldn’t help his cause. They’ve marked him as responsible, and hell if he’s not going to take it in. That’s all he’s ever done in his life.

Arno is barely twenty-one years old, and already he doesn’t have anybody left in his life. And he doesn’t think anything of it, doesn’t try to escape prison, doesn’t look into solutions. Nothing is waiting for him outside. Even better, as long as he stays in here, he can’t find this soulmate he doesn’t want. The one who has never tried to reach him. The only way he knows they’re alive is the presence of many, _many_ scars on his body, because as much as this soulmate doesn’t care about his existence, they don’t seem to be very careful with theirs.

But it’s not like he gives a shit.

All thoughts of soulmates go out of the window when he meets Bellec, who _knew his father_ (did he really know the _real_ Charles, though?) and, after much convincing, gets him to enter a super secret organization whose sole job is supposedly to protect the world’s population against another, even worse group. 

Arno doesn’t understand the half of it, only that his father used to side with them. So he enters. He drinks and travels through his memories. He travels _the Eagle’s path_. He witnesses his own rebirth as an Assassin.

Full of his new responsibilities, his life finally has a purpose - and he soars.  


* * *

  
Evie never believed in soulmates either; mostly because she’s never had any parental figure able to show her the meaning of the word. Little Evie grows up with her twin brother and her grandmother, never knowing her mother and barely seeing her father- she learns the fact that Cecily died giving birth when she and Jacob are seven years old, when Ethan Frye comes back from years spent in India and bursts into tears after his children ask too many questions about the mom they’ve never seen.

He’s not the one who tells the twins the real story, and that’s when the both of them learn about soulmates. Jacob is the first one to point out how sad their father looks. He’s the youngest, and he’s brash, and they fight a lot, but when he vows to never find a soulmate so he won’t be heartbroken as well, she can’t help but follow. Her brother doesn’t like their father because he’s left them for years. She just wonders if they are, in fact, responsible for their mother’s death.

The years after that are spent listening to Ethan’s every word, just to prove him that mom didn’t die in vain. When Jacob is outside, trying his best to spite him, barely paying attention, Evie is training, taking notes, being the best student he’s ever had. She tries her best.

Her training is hard. Her father doesn’t go easy on her, puts what little hope he has on her shoulders. She gets scars, countless ones, she fails, gets back up again, fights until exhaustion takes over- sleepless nights of studying, skipped meals when she’s learning something new to fight her enemies. To her own surprise, she never, ever gives up.

She becomes a Master Assassin a few months before their father dies, and swears she will continue his legacy. Work hard. Be loyal to the Brotherhood.

Jacob doesn’t believe in any of it, but still respects her decision. He doesn’t stop her. Lets her talk about pieces of Eden and the likes, keeps their bickering at a minimum, and does missions by her side. He listens to George a lot more than he did Ethan. She doesn’t complain.

Her whole life, she practically never thinks about her soulmate. She does get a painful reminder that they exist each time a bruise she definitely didn’t get herself appears on her skin. In these moments, she feels bad about giving them all the scars she collects.

The universe is stupid and cruel, anyway. What kind of God makes it so that everything on your skin translates to your so-called soulmate’s?

She and Jacob travel to London in a split-second decision, and everything in her life changes so drastically and so fast that she loses her ability to think about too much. Her bickering with her brother over his sudden need to form a gang is only half-hearted, and even if Henry Green is a nice person, she still feels empty inside.

Things take a turn for the worst when they meet Frederick Abberline. After a tour of the city to meet Henry’s allies, the policeman is the last they encounter. And under the disguise, behind that terrible moustache, Jacob finds the soulmate he’d vowed never to meet. Evie can only watch, helpless, as something changes within both men. She’d heard about it, she knows of the bond that supposedly forms between the soulmates. She loses Jacob’s support in her quest to stay alone. Somehow, she manages to feel even lonelier.

She takes comfort in studying and meetings with Henry, who despite his incredible lack of skill physically turns out to have a great mind, and together they fight to keep the pieces of Eden from Templar’s grasp while Jacob cleanses the city with his newly formed gang and his newfound love.

She cracks one night, sitting at her desk in the train, the gentle sound of the wheels on the rails lulling her. It’s calm and almost silent, but she can’t sleep. Instead, she has her eyes closed, trying to forget about the fact that someone out there is meant for her, yet neither of them tried to find each other. She thinks about how happy they all seem around her. Evie looks at the few scars on her arms she’s somehow gained from the bond with this unknown person, and takes the first step towards understanding their mutual ignorance.

With ink dark as the ocean, on her bare left arm, she writes and almost engraves it.

_Why don’t you care?_  


* * *

  
Upon entering the Brotherhood, Arno finds out fairly quickly that whatever he’s been teaching himself in terms of fighting hasn’t been enough. He spends hours training with other recruits, and manages to get almost as many scars as the soulmate he tries so hard to forget used to. He’s not the best at hand-to-hand combat, though, but the novice trials reveal something much better about him. As it turns out, he’s extremely comfortable with stealth situations and being invisible is like a second nature to him. He tries not to think about what in his past could’ve made this possible.

But the Council takes advantage of his gifts, that they do, especially considering he’s also got the Sense. They’re lacking good infiltration agents. He’s perfect for the role. He doesn’t get in a lot of fights during his missions, yet butts heads with his superiors more than once. They keep reminding him Bellec is the main reason he’s still here. He doesn’t believe them, knowing deep inside that they _need_ him. And the voice inside Arno, the one that screams all day, saying he should be nicer and not take for granted the first time a group of people actually trusts him, shuts up the day he goes from novice to Assassin.

Still hiding everything behind a pretty face, a perfected fake smile and his never-ending sarcasm, Arno starts feeling more and more empty as time passes. He’s not stupid. He’s heard enough about soulmates to know that his repressed emotions have something to do with how disgustingly lonely he feels.

He stays strong, though. The memory of his heartbroken father keeps his resolution up.

It crumbles the first time something other than a scar shows up on his skin. He loathes the fact that he can read english when he sees the neat writing on his left arm. _Why don’t you care?_ And his first reaction isn’t sad or loving. It’s anger. He’s angry, because how dare they ask him? How dare they even forget the fact that they haven’t tried to contact him either?

He decides to ignore it. He doesn’t _need_ this person, especially since they’re not even French.

Then the messages keep coming. Each night. About the same hour. Every single one following the previous one. And his resolve starts melting like ice in the sun.

_I know it’s not fair, I used to not care either._

_I’ve never seen a soulmates relationship end up in happiness._

_But I’m starting to feel alone and empty._

_Do you feel the same?_

_Am I even talking to someone?_

He’s prepared, one night, just before the usual hour. He’s the one who writes first. His right arm ends up littered with words.

_I do feel the same. But every single soulmates relationship I’ve witnessed has ended up badly. And I don’t want to be as miserable as those I have seen. It’s easier to avoid the relationship altogether._  


* * *

  
Evie almost cries out of both happiness and sadness when the answer shows up. She doesn’t even think about what she’s going to answer before writing.

_Aren’t we already miserable without having started any kind of relationship? What is keeping us from trying?_  


* * *

  
Arno scoffs, because of course his soulmate is a romantic person who actually believes they can be happy together like fate has decided. But he can’t tell them that the main reason is their status of complete strangers. That’s the point of meeting. Instead, he goes for a low blow and brings up distance.

_The ocean._

He goes to sleep right after answering and doesn’t look at his arms again.  


* * *

  
Evie is crying when Jacob finds her, sitting at her desk and looking at her right arm with a stare so intense one could think she's trying to burn a hole in it. But the words stay stubbornly visible, taunting her and crushing all hope she has of filling the void in her heart. Her soulmate didn’t even bother wiping them off, and she can’t take her eyes off the ink. 

That’s why she doesn’t even hear her brother walk behind her, doesn’t even turn to see him look at her arm with every question in the universe rolling in his head. She only gets out of her trance when he talks, without moving.

“Evie, why is there _the ocean_ written on your arm?”

Her voice is low and broken when she answers. “My soulmate.”

Jacob’s mouth forms a perfect o, even if he still doesn’t understand the situation. She hears him take a deep breath, and braces herself for the interrogation.

“And why, pray tell, is your soulmate suddenly writing to you?”

She wipes a stray tear. “I know I said I didn’t want one after we saw how it affected Father, but I see you and Frederick and all I can witness is… happiness, and my heart feels empty and I’m just so, _so_ lonely, Jacob.”

He doesn’t answer, just puts a comforting hand on her shoulder and lets her pour her heart out.

“And all we’ve been leaving each other is a bunch of scars, so I thought, perhaps I could leave a message for them on my arms. I actually left several in the last few days. And tonight they answered but… They didn’t see happiness around them for soulmates, just like us, but they don’t even want to try. And when I asked what kept us, the answer was just,” she shows her arm again, “this. I have a foreign soulmate who wants nothing to do with me, Jacob.”

He takes a deep breath again, taking his sister in his arms and shushing her while she continues crying until eventually she begins to fall asleep. He’s thinking about murdering someone when he puts her into bed.  


* * *

  
Arno wakes up feeling incredibly bad and even more tired than before going to sleep, and his first thought is that the universe might be punishing him for telling his soulmate off so harshly. He deduces the universe is a self-absorbed dick who doesn’t understand the meaning of self-preservation, nor the fact that he’s a grown man who can make his own choices. He doesn’t want to have his everything broken by the inevitable death of his soulmate and, now that he thinks about it, doesn’t want to give his own mate the same fate. He does live a dangerous life, treads with death every mission, and hell if he’s going to put someone’s mental health at risk.

But he still feels something tug at his heart, and one look at his right arm makes him nauseous because he forgot to wipe it off. His soulmate hasn’t responded, likely sad or angry, and he made them keep the horrifyingly hard answer to their question. Arno feels sick, yet can’t or won’t make anything to change the sensation. The universe hates him.

He wipes his arm clean, scrubbing it with water and soap and it refuses to go away easily. He scrubs so hard and fast that his arm becomes numb and _red_ and if he keeps going he’s likely going to peel his skin off; but he can’t stop, because now tears are in his eyes and his mind and heart are in an intense battle to take control.

He hates the world for creating these rules, hates how weak he is, loathes himself once again and wants to die because for all his talk of not wanting to meet his soulmate, his whole being disagrees and yearns for love.

It takes him another minute to come to terms with the fact that he can’t escape the laws of life, and by the time he stops scrubbing, his right arm is tomato red. Tears are still streaking his cheeks, and he thinks about whoever is linked to him, the one person in the world who’s going to find themselves with an arm the same colour as his. Minus, fortunately, the pain.

It stings, he thinks, but no more than his heart.

When Bellec comes fetch him for the day, he doesn’t look up, and his Mentor doesn’t ask questions. Arno simply dresses and follows him out, grateful for his friend’s silence.  


* * *

  
Evie wakes up gasping from sudden and excruciating pain, still fully clothed under covers Jacob probably threw on her just so she wouldn’t get cold. She sits up with stars in her eyes from how quickly everything goes, clutching her right arm close to her heaving chest as she wonders what’s going on. She barely registers the fact that Jacob wakes up from the chair next to the bed and has most likely been keeping watch all night.

She extends a trembling hand to see what happens, and almost throws up right there. Her arm is reddening, she can see the words her soulmate had written fading. Like they’re washing their answer off, but don’t go easy on their own skin. And somehow, Evie can _feel_ it. After countless scars given to each other, she discovers now that the shared skin won’t only be visual anymore.

Tears well up in her eyes, and her brother gets closer, his eyes still half-lidded from his tiredness.

“Evie, what’s happening?”

“I can,” she spits out biting her lips, “I can feel their _pain_.”

It’s physical, she thinks, and knows it’s not the end, but how long until she dies from this new effect? Jacob stays silent, clearly processing the information, and abruptly gets up.

“I’m going to ask Greenie if he has books on soulmates. That’s enough.”

The pain suddenly stops a few minutes after that, and Evie watches in silence as the red doesn’t even fade. She knows what caused her soulmate to hurt themselves this way (it’s her, _of course_ it’s her, it’s always been her fault) but wonders what made them stop. Do they know she can feel the pain? What got out of this painful session? Should she contact them again? What will she do if the pain shoots while she’s on a mission?

So many questions bumping on the walls of her head. She feels like she can’t function anymore.

And wonders if it’s the same on the other side of _the ocean_.

She tries not to think much of it for most of the day, working on papers and research and studying. Jacob disappears in the city for reasons she doesn’t care to know, and Henry promises to look for books that could talk about her situation. Things are good, apart from the constant void in her heart. And then she feels pain again.

She knows this kind of pain, she’s _felt_ it before, during fights, when things get rough and she’s outnumbered, when her senses are overloaded and she gets stabbed or cut. Her soulmate is in danger. They haven’t been stabbed (thank God, she thinks), but what she feels on her stomach has the distinctive pain linked to a blade cutting through fragile skin. Shuddering, she lifts her shirt. Her own skin shows a scar, obviously, since she’s not the one receiving the wound, but the mere thought of how bloody her mate must look makes her sick. The cut is long and nasty, and she can’t take it anymore.

She uses ink again, biting back sounds of suffering, and writes on her arm like her life depends on it. Her handwriting isn’t as neat as usual, she’s shaking, but she manages to pass the message before collapsing on her desk.  


* * *

  
Arno starts regretting every single one of his life choices in the middle of the fight. It’s the kind of fight he knows in advance he will lose, or win at a cost, the kind you’re pushed in without any help whatsoever, relying on your skill alone and knowing it won’t be enough. The guy is huge, strong, somehow quick, and uses his blade far too well for the Assassin’s taste. His only solution is to either run or hold him off until Bellec _gets his ass down here_ to help him. He doesn’t have his gun, and the fact that it’s disappeared in the middle of the fight is not that bothersome since he knows it was empty anyway.

In other words, he’s in the middle of a fight, and he’s screwed. More so when he dodges yet another attack but doesn’t get to escape a nasty cut on his stomach. Blood jumps out of his body as his attacker grins, and that’s the moment his Mentor conveniently chooses to jump from above and sink his blade in the man’s throat.

Arno wants to make a sarcastic comment, to bust out the sass and ask Bellec why he couldn’t have shown up _two seconds earlier_ , but the only thing that manages to come out of his mouth is a muffled curse as the pain sinks in. He slaps a hand on the wound and regrets it immediately, but tries to stop the blood that’s already coming out. He tries to breathe slowly, barely hearing anything while his friend takes him to a carriage and gets him back to the Sanctuary. He only registers being taken to the infirmary, the nurse scolding him for not getting out of the fight after hearing the story from Bellec.

The emptiness in his chest collides with the physical sensations and hits him in the gut each passing second, his heart beating fast in his chest to make up for the red liquid he feels gliding on his skin.

He’s still as a puppet when they take his clothes off, and only comes out of his daydreaming when he hears his name.

“Arno?”

He looks up, shivering (from the cold or the cut, he doesn’t know) and frowns as both his Mentor and nurse show him his left arm. He almost cries before even having read what’s written on it. It’s messy and the letters aren’t as carefully crafted as before, but he can recognise his soulmate’s ink. He can’t stop himself from crying as he reads the words.

_I Can Feel Your PAIN_

He’s been cut open, and yet the fact that his mate can feel it hurts more than the wound itself. Arno decides, here and there, that he’s done ignoring the universe and its laws. It’s not spite. It’s not against his will. The knowledge that he’s hurting the _one_ person in this world he knows is supposed to love him unconditionally sparks something in him, and instead of rejecting everything because of his memories, he decides to store the vision of his father deep within his subconscious. He’s done running away from his problems.

When he looks back to the other two people in the room, eyes still wet yet on fire with a newfound resolution, he doesn’t need to speak up for them to understand what he wants. Without another word, he’s patched up and the Council decides to allow him a week to get his life together. So he sits down, and, since he doesn’t have another canvas, writes again on his right arm.  


* * *

  
The pain end up fading, along with her sleepiness, and it dawns on Evie that her soulmate situation has made her completely useless recently. She doesn’t know what to do about it, and it both frightens and frustrates her. She sighs, looking back at the papers on her desk, and freezes again when she sees from the side of her eye something appearing on her right arm. It takes her brain a second to register the fact that her soulmate is writing, responding to her, and though a part of her heart has hope, the realist one tells her that they’re probably just going to apologise. Nothing more.

She’s proven wrong, however, when the words keeps flowing until the entire arm is littered with ink. Having followed it as it went, she only understands that she’s crying when tears tickle her cheeks.

_I am so sorry. For everything. For the pain and for the way I talked to you. I sincerely hope you can forgive me for both. Passing time and empty heart have made me understand that it was foolish to repress my feelings and ignore the way the universe wants me to live my life. My memories of loved ones losing their soulmate don’t define the relationship I could have with you, and I get it now. If you’ll still have me, I’d love to get to know you._

Wiping her eyes with a hand, Evie switches car to find anything that could help her clean her arm. It’s stupid, the way they communicate, skin acting as paper for their letters, but she couldn’t care less. She ignores Henry when he sees her run past him, and comes back to her desk intensely wiping off her previous words.

Their exchange is just exchanging few sentences at once and becoming more comfortable with one another, and she loves it.

_I’ll forgive you if you promise not to get hurt like that again. It was terrible._

_My job keeps me from not getting hurt, I’m sorry but I can’t promise that._

_At least don’t hurt your arm like you did again._

_This one I promise._

_What’s your name?_

_Arno. What’s yours?_

_Evie. It’s a pleasure._

_The pleasure’s all mine, Evie. If you don’t mind me asking, where do you live?_

_I imagine that’s a reference to your ocean comment… I’m currently residing in London. What about you? How far would one of us have to travel?_

_France. I’m in Paris._

_So it’s less of an ocean, and more of a sea._

_I guess you’re right, it does mean less distance and easier access._

She finds herself smiling for a second, but decides to go back to more important matters.

_So Arno, what kind of job do you have that makes it impossible for you to promise not to get hurt?_

_You wouldn’t believe me._

She snorts.

_Try me. I’m very open-minded._

_Enough to believe me if I tell you that I kill people for a secret organisation who fights to protect the free-will of mankind?_

Her breath cuts short, and it’s the moment Jacob chooses to come back home, immediately frowning when he sees what’s happening.

“What have they done now?”

Evie jumps, and tears her eyes away from the words on her arm to look up at her brother.

“He… We’re okay now, I think, and we’re… Trying to know each other, and when I asked him what he does for a living, he just…”

At a loss for words, she simply gestures for him to read, and his frown leaves place for wide eyes when he understands the reason for her hesitation.

“That’s one way to describe it, but… Do you think your soulmate’s an Assassin?”

“I mean, it fits the description. What do I do?”

No help at all, Jacob shrugs. “Tell him the truth.”

It takes her a second to realise she hasn’t responded in a long while, and it prompts her to wipe her arm even quicker.

_Enough to believe you and admire the fact that the universe put two Assassins together as soulmates, actually._

_Wait, what? You too?!_

This is going to be good, she thinks, smiling to herself before bracing herself for a long conversation.  


* * *

  
“Your week is almost over, Dorian, and you want us to allow you more time so you can go to England?”

Arno tries to stay calm in front of the Council. He thinks about the few words of encouragement still present on his arm, in Evie’s nicest handwriting, and takes a deep breath. He has to do this. For them.

The emptiness in their chest is gone, and both of them are feeling better. But the constant rejection for years and years, followed by a deep regret, is not something their bond has forgotten. If their heart feel better, they’re still feeling each other’s every important physical sensation. And now that they’ve accepted their fate, the void in their hearts has been replaced with something far worse: a desperate need to see and touch each other. Despite being surrounded by friends or family, both of them feel more touched-starved than they’ve ever been.

Evie, being healthy and leader of a gang, has a lot of business going on in London. Which is why Arno, still recovering from his wound and not a hundred percent operational, is standing in front of the Council, boldly asking for permission to take a vacation from the Brotherhood. Despite all of his efforts, from explaining that she’s an Assassin too to saying that he’s still not ready to go back on the field, the only one backing him up is Bellec.

And he’s putting all of his efforts on him, silently begging him to help. When Pierre steps away from the pillar he’s been leaning on, hope sparkles in his body.

“Look, all three of you know what the deal with soulmate is. He’s been repressing the girl’s existence for twenty years and now he’s suffering the side effects. Even if I put him back in at work, that boy would be a walking disaster,” his Mentor says, and don’t we always say the truth hurts? “So just, let him go, give him a time limit or something. I can deal with a lovesick puppy when he comes back, but not with this.”

Somehow, the way he gestures to all of Arno doesn’t even hurt.

He has to restrain himself from jumping when they give in and allow him a few days, but he does bolt into the dorms to write on his arm (and damn if he doesn’t hate that this is their fastest way of communicating, but what can you do). He’s coming. Evie’s answer is a mess of words translating how happy she is.  


* * *

  
Evie has her arm hugging her chest, trying to keep the anxiety at bay and mostly keeping herself from fidgeting. Walking in actual circles is enough, people are giving her weird looks but she couldn’t care less. He’s coming. Her soulmate is coming. And while she’s happy, she also can’t help but dread their encounter.

He lives on the other side of the sea, after all, they’ve only ever talked via ink on skin, and the beginning of their relationship _did_ start in a bad way. She still remembers crying herself to sleep, and Jacob has not forgiven Arno for that day. She knows it, because her brother’s made it clear. Every single day. And she’s getting sick of it.

She also doesn’t know how it’s going to go, how will they recognise each other, what’ll happen, are they supposed to instantly love each other? She closes her eyes, telling herself that this question has already been answered. Jacob being no help, she’d gone to Frederick, of all people, to ask what it feels like.

Of course, given that she’d been there the fateful day, it hadn’t been as dreamy as some people tend to describe it (and oh she still feels guilty about that), but he’d assured her that she _would_ know. Locked eye-contact, butterfly in the chest and everything in between. _Romantic novels have it right_.

But now she’s been standing on the port for the better part of two hours, and she still hasn’t seen any kind of ship that’s not used to being here, and honestly what else could she expect from the overly packed Thames?

Eyes still closed, she hears around her a flourish of people (waiting, just like her) suddenly advancing and running around her, and she hesitantly opens one eye. Her whole body gets stuck in a mix of extreme nervousness and incredible happiness when the ship appears. Her gut tells her it’s the one, and she believes it because her gut has been _right_ up to this point.

Taking a deep breath once again, she lifts her head and looks up in the ship’s direction.

He’s getting out of the crowd when their eyes meets. She feels like electricity is coursing through her whole body, yet somehow her entire being starts relaxing, both physically and mentally. She almost cries, because it’s exactly the way they described it; she feels like a character in a book, looking at her soulmate with his hair a bit messy and his dark blue coat floating in the wind, and none of them make a move to reach out but it’s still _enough_.

Evie is just about frozen in place, so Arno takes it upon himself to approach her first, and she just stares as he slowly walks towards her. They end up face to face, their breaths deeper than ever, and the world around them fades. They don’t hear or see anyone else, just bask in the moment and their hearts are tight with love and happiness, blood pumping through their veins with the speed of a racehorse. They’re close in height, and she doesn’t flinch when he reaches a tentative hand to touch her arm, only lifts hers to do the same.

They both want as much physical contact as possible, and know the other wants the same, yet still take the time to test each other’s boundaries. She’s the one who half-snaps out of it, noting they still haven’t uttered a word, and raises her free hand to touch his cheek with a teary smile because _finally_ , he’s here.

“Hi,” she mutters.

He gives her the same happy-sad smile, biting his lip. “We made it,” he whispers. “I can’t believe I tried to deny this to us.”

She nods. “It feels good. I like it.”

“Well _I_ like you.”

Evie huffs. “Even more of a flirt in person.”

He grins and her heart does a backflip. “Only for you,” Arno says, before taking a more serious expression and looking her in the eyes again. “May I kiss you?”

Part of her is surprised, to say the least, because while they are soulmates, it still feels rushed seeing as they were refusing to acknowledge each other’s existence a few weeks prior. The other part, however, is trying to convince her that this is _it_ , the last part, that once it is done they will be linked like fictional characters again.

It’s the one she decides to listen to.

“You may,” she says, earnest, and it’s oh-so worth it to see the delight and relief on his face.

He doesn’t even hesitate and ignores the passers-by, locking their lips together; and this time they’re whole, and it’s both pure and intense.

This time, _they_ soar.


End file.
